


tit-for-tat

by yodasyoyo



Series: 2000 tumblr followers celebration! (Sterek fics) [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And by family feels: I mean they engage in a passive aggressive war of attrition, Brief Stiles/OMC, Jealous Derek, M/M, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles "Sexually mature tornado of bangability" Stilinksi, Stilinski Family Feels, With each other's best interests at heart, derek notices, implied sheriff/Chris Argent, stiles comes back to town all grown up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 02:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19687834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: “I’m back,” John calls. “And look who I found!”As one everyone looks up, smiling and calling out greetings. Tara pulls her chair over a bit to make room for them. Stiles grins up at them, but it strikes John that  the focus of his attention is Derek. “Why, Deputy Hale,” Stiles drawls. “After all this time. Fancy meeting you here.”“Stiles.” There’s a look on Derek’s face that John can’t quite parse, he seems– tense, all of a sudden. His shoulders are a stiff line. His jaw clenched tight.





	tit-for-tat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ajeepandleather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajeepandleather/gifts).



> The lovely Haelly prompted me with:
> 
> Congrats on the follower mark!!! You deserve all the love :) Can I get sterek and your version of @drunkentuesdaze 's Stiles "Sexually mature tornado of bangability" Stilinksi? A.k.a - Stiles comes back filled out, mature and experienced and Derek can't handle this shit. Thank yooooou!!
> 
> I couldn't resist-- but I ended up adding in a little Sheriff's POV, because outsider POV is my JAM. Hope you like it!!

“Any new information about the b & e on Magnolia?” John asks, pausing on his way past Derek’s desk. 

Derek looks up from where he’s making notes on a case file and makes a face, his nose wrinkling slightly. “Nothing special to report,” he says.   
  
Which is code for nothing _supernatural_ to report– a little something they’ve developed between them over the past couple years since Derek got a job at the station as deputy. John smiles at him benevolently. “Good to know”   
  
He raps his palm against the edge of Derek’s fastidiously neat desk twice in a friendly kinda way, about to head out, when, apropos of nothing, Derek says, “I hear Stiles is back?”   
  
“Stiles? Yeah. He got back last night. He’s here for a couple of weeks. Actually I think he’s gonna meet a couple of us at Mulaneys tonight when the shift finishes. Jack and Tiana are gonna be there too. They haven’t met him yet, and y’know how he likes to keep up with my new recruits.” What Stiles actually likes to do is lecture people mercilessly about John’s diet. There isn’t a single bakery or coffee shop in town that will sell him more than a bran muffin now, and half the station tuts at him whenever he so much as looks at a hamburger- it’s a nightmare. In his darker moments he thinks Stiles might have the station bugged– that, or there’s a mole; his eyes dart around the office suspiciously.

  
When he looks back at Derek, the smirk Derek sends his way suggests he knows exactly where John’s mind has gone. “He’s a good kid.”

John quirks an eyebrow at him. “Not really much of a kid anymore, y’know.”  
  
At that Derek’s smirk softens into a smile and he shakes his head, like he doesn’t quite believe it.   
  
Truthfully, John can barely believe it himself. Stiles is in his final year of college, and he’s only come home once or twice in all that time. Sure, John has been to Boston a couple times too, but they don’t see much of each other. Stiles is double majoring in math and computer science, and John has enough on his plate trying to make sure Beacon Hills is safe. He can’t be heading out east all the time, so most of the time, they make do with Skype. Still, when John had picked Stiles up from the airport yesterday, Stiles had seemed broader somehow, more assured– less, manic. Like he’d finally crossed the line from boy to man.   
  
“Y’know,” Derek says, “I don’t think I’ve seen him since Christmas break that first year he went away. I mean, we text sometimes, but–” Maybe John’s imagining it, but there’s a slightly wistful note to Derek’s voice. He shoots him a considering look. Christmas of Stiles first year at college? That would have been nearly three years ago, back around the time Derek was dating that Niall guy, the one who turned out to be an incubus. If John remembers it correctly, Stiles had spent half his time that Christmas sulking about something, and the other half- well- fighting an incubus.  
  
“You should definitely come out with us tonight then. You’ll probably both get a kick out of seeing each other.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, flashing him a smile. “That sounds good. Ok. I will.”

-

There’s a whole bunch of them at the bar later that evening. Mulaneys is an old haunt for Beacon Hills law enforcement, with it’s dark, hardwood furniture, it’s green vinyl covered covered seats, and it’s cheap beer. Pat Mulaney, who owns the joint, is a vampire ex-bodybuilder from Brooklyn, who moved to California for the sun. At least, that’s what he always jokes when anyone asks him. He’s a stand up guy, though. John had been suspicious at first, because, well, _vampire_. But Pat gets his blood from the blood bank, and has been an invaluable lead on several of the departments more supernaturally inclined cases.   
  
Tonight, there’s a gaggle of officers at the bar when John arrives, including Tara and Jordan, and the newbies, Jack and Tiana. Then there’s Stiles who’s bent over double, laughing at something Pat has just said, and goddamn it’s good to have him back. As he watches, Jack, the new guy, reaches out and places a proprietary hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles flashes him a cocky grin. _Oh_ John thinks to himself. _It’s like that, is it?_ And he smirks to himself. It occurs to him that it’s just possible nobody has mentioned to Jack that Stiles is his son. So this should be a real fun night. He strolls across to join them.

“Evenin’“ John says as he pulls up a stool next to them all.  
  
There’s a chorus of greetings from everyone. Jack, who’s a square-jawed, blond 28 yr old, that used to be a linebacker in high school, turns to Stiles with a winning smile. “Stiles,” he says, “this is our boss. Sheriff Stilinski. Sheriff, this is Stiles, he’s double majoring in Math and Computer Science at MIT!”  
  
“Uh–” Stiles opens his mouth, probably about to explain, but John cuts him off.  
  
“Good to meet you,” he says, with a wink and a grin. He sticks out his hand for Stiles to shake, and, amused, Stiles takes it.  
  
“You too, sir,” he says.  
  
Tara and Jordan both catch John’s eye and Tara purses her lips against a smile, shaking her head a little. John grins. “Pat, get everyone one more of whatever is they’re having, and something for yourself.”  
  
“Comin’ right up,” Pat says with a grin.  
  
“Thanks, _Sheriff_ ,” Stiles says, sending John a look. Everyone turns back to their own conversations.  
  
“So Stiles,” Jack says, placing a hand on his forearm, and flashing him a grin. “Tell me more about MIT.”  
  
-  
  
It’s about a half hour later, and John is about to order another round, when Derek walks through the door to the bar. He’d run late finishing up the paperwork for the Magnolia B & E. He’s off duty now, though, dressed in jeans, a Henley and that leather jacket he seems to love so much. When they first met John had never understood how he could wear it in the summer. When he’d mentioned that to Stiles, Stiles had launched into a detailed explanation about how wolves feel the cold more, because they have a higher body temperature, therefore they’re losing heat at a greater rate relative to their surroundings. Or something. John can’t really remember exactly. It isn’t his area. Last Christmas, though, he’d bought Derek extra warm socks and a thick pair of gloves as a gift, and Derek had loved them.  
  
Now, Derek approaches John with a tired smile. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, son. Let me get you a drink.”  
  
“I got the paperwork done, but I think–.”  
  
“Hey! Relax. it’s Friday, and there are no immediate emergencies or supernatural crises. My son is in town, and I feel like celebrating. Let me get you a drink. What’s your poison?”  
  
“Beer, thanks,” Derek glances about. “Anyone else here? Or did I miss them?”  
  
“All over on our regular table, I’m just getting another round in. You wanna join them?”  
  
“I’ll wait, give you a hand with the drinks.”  
  
John nudges Derek’s shoulder companionably. “Thanks, son.”  
  
-

He and Derek keep up a stream of conversation right up until they’re carrying the drinks over to the table, when Derek, who had just been discussing the finer points of last night’s Dodgers game, trails off into silence. John glances over at him, and then follows the direction of his gaze.  
  
At their regular table the others are all sitting around chatting and laughing together, but Derek’s eyes seem to be locked on Stiles. Well. Stiles and Jack, who is watching Stiles talk about something with rapt attention and has his arm draped faux casually across the back of Stiles’ chair.

“You ok, Derek?” John says.  
  
Derek startles, the drinks he’s holding slosh over the tray in his hand. “Yeah. I–” He swallows. “Yeah.”  
  
He doesn’t look ok. He looks like he’s been hit by a truck, and John can’t for the life of him work out why.  
  
“Okaaay,” he says. “Well. Come on then.” He starts forward again to the table, and after a beat, Derek follows. “I’m back,” John calls. “And look who I found!”  
  
As one everyone looks up, smiling and calling out greetings. Tara pulls her chair over a bit to make room for them. Stiles grins up at them, but it strikes John that the focus of his attention is Derek. “Why, Deputy Hale,” Stiles drawls. “After all this time. Fancy meeting you here.”  
  
“Stiles.” There’s a look on Derek’s face that John can’t quite parse, he seems– tense, all of a sudden. His shoulders are a stiff line. His jaw clenched tight.  
  
“Wait, you two know each other?” says Jack, eyebrows climbing towards his hairline as he looks between Stiles and Derek. John doesn’t miss the way his arm flexes around the back of Stiles’ chair.  
  
“Yeah,” Derek says, glancing at him. “Obviously, Stiles is–”  
  
“–Well known to the Beacon Hills Sheriff department.” John intervenes. “He was kind of a fixture here in his teen years. Stole a prison transport vehicle when he was 16, for one thing. And don’t get me started on the restraining order.”  
  
“Oh my god.” Jack’s stares at him, then back at Stiles. “Seriously?”  
  
“And that’s just the stuff they know about,” Stiles says with a wink and an easy smirk. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes two or three long swallows. There’s moisture running down the lip of the bottle and trickling down the curve of his jaw, the t-shirt he’s wearing looks about two sizes too small, and his hair is longer than he used to wear it and tousled like Stiles has been running his hands through it. Geez, the kid’s a mess. Maybe John should give him some money towards clothes, or a haircut while he’s here. Obviously being a poor student isn’t working out for him.  
  
Across from John, Jack breathes something that sounds a lot like, “Holy shit.”  
  
There’s a sharp splintering sound and John looks around to find Derek holding the remains of a beer bottle in the curl of his fist, and blinking in surprise.  
  
“Jesus,” Tiana says. “You ok, Derek?”  
  
“Yeah, I–” There’s beer seeping all over the table, dripping off the edge into Derek’s lap. As John watches he sees Derek glance down at it, and then back up. The tips of his ears are bright red. “I–uh. I’ll get something to um–” Without another word he gets to his feet, and practically runs out of there.  
  
The rest of them all look at each other.  
  
“Weird,” Jack says.   
  
John can’t help but agree, and it’s a waste of a good craft beer too. Although it _has_ reminded him he needs to speak to Chris Argent about the craft beer festival in San Francisco this year. “Son,” he says to Stiles, “When we get home remind me to call–”  
  
“Wait,” says Jack, looking between the two of them, his jaw dropping in horror. “He’s your _son!?_ ”  
  
“Dammit,” John mutters, as everyone else around the table bursts into peals of laughter, except Jack who whips his hand away from the back of Stiles’ chair like he’s been burned.  
  
“Busted,” Stiles says with a grin. Then he leans forward. “Now Jack, serious business. When was the last time you saw my dad eat a hamburger.”  
  
“Oh god,” John mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I need another drink.”  
  
-  
  
Derek only returns to the table long enough to clean up the mess, then he makes his excuses and leaves; John can’t help but think that something is up. Derek had seemed quiet, closed off even, more reminiscent of the guy John first arrested all those years ago, then the happy, relaxed guy he’s grown into more recently.   
  
“Derek seem weird to you tonight?” John asks Stiles, after Jordan’s dropped them both home.  
  
“About as weird as I remember him being,” Stiles says with a sigh, as they stumble through the front door. “Although no less hot.”  
  
“Wait,” John double takes. “You think he’s hot?”

“You _don’t?_ ”  
  
“I’m not. I– I guess he’s a nice lookin’ fella. I just–” John makes a face. “Derek, though. Really? He’s not a little–”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I just mean. With the muscles and the jawline. He’s a bit-”  
  
“Too perfect?”  
  
John’s face screws up. “Naw. I think maybe it’s just that he’s–”  
  
“-a guy?”  
  
“- too young.” John says, imperiously. “You don’t have the monopoly on the whole bisexual thing, ok? I know I prefer women, but I can appreciate an attractive guy. And let me tell you, Derek Hale is no Chris Argent.”  
  
“God, Chris Argent is a silver fox,” Stiles shivers. “Derek though. He’s the whole reason I even realized I _liked_ guys in the first place. He’s like-” He sighs. “The gold standard, and like fine wine he’s only gotten better with age. You see that little streak of gray in his beard?” They stagger into the living room together, and Stiles falls back on the couch heavily. “Jesus. When he walked over tonight, I just wanted to crawl under the table and suck his–” He glances up at John and clears his throat. “Never mind.”  
  
“Water,” John slurs, magnanimously choosing to ignore that last comment, for both their sakes. “We should get some water. And then I should call Chris see if he’s interested in the beer festical.”  
  
“Festical?” Stiles snickers. “That’s not even a word. And it’s 2AM, old man. You wanna get in Chris Argent’s pants eventually, maybe don’t call him now to arrange a date.”

John blinks owlishly. “Yeah,” he concedes. “Yeaaah. You’re right. Ok.” He slumps next to Stiles on the couch. After a beat he says, “So Derek Hale, huh?”  
  
“Love of my life.” Stiles clutches one hand to his chest. “For years I didn’t even think he liked guys. Then I came back one Christmas to find him dating that incubus guy. God that sucked.”  
  
“Ohhhh. That’s why you were sulking.”  
  
Stiles slaps his arm. “I didn’t sulk.”

“You played a helluva lot of Adele for someone who wasn’t sulking, and you refused to come out of your bedroom.”  
  
“That was–” Stiles sighs. “A long time ago. And Derek made it very clear he wasn’t interested. In me. Specifically. So–”  
  
John sits up a little, scowling. “He thinks he’s too good for my–”  
  
“Too young,” Stiles says, cutting him off. “He thought I was too young. Back then, I mean.”  
  
Idly, John rubs a hand over his five o’clock shadow and considers this statement in the light of this evenings events. “You’re not so young now, though.”  
  
“Yeah, but– I don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything more than, a kid though. One of those things–” Stiles waves a hand. “Your new guy though, Jack–”

“He’s a good guy,” John allows. “Got a ways to go yet, but there’s potential.”  
  
“Hmm,” Stiles nods his head. “Good kisser, too.”

John shakes his head, and smiles. “Don’t break his heart. I don’t wanna lose a good deputy because you can’t keep it in your pants.”  
  
”No worries,” Stiles reaches over and pats John on the chest. “It’s just for fun– we already talked about it. We’re on the same page.”

”Well, as long as you’re gonna be safe–”  
  
”I’m twenty-three years old, Dad. You don’t need to–”

”I’m always gonna need to,” John says. “That’s just being a parent.”  
  
-

The next few days pass in a blur. John works at the office, spends time with Stiles. Calls Chris Argent and arranges that trip to the Craft Beer Festival (the hotel they’ve booked for the occasion only had one bedroom left that weekend, what a shame). In between all that, though, John notices a couple things. 

Stiles and Jack spend some time together, for one. They get coffee a couple times. Go to the Jungle one night. He even catches them making out on the couch when he comes home from his swing shift on Wednesday night. As he walks through the door to the living room he clears his throat loudly, and then grins to himself when Jack jumps about three feet in the air, blushing to the roots of his hair.   
  
“Asshole,” Stiles says good naturedly, later that night, after Jack’s gone home.   
  
“It runs in the family,” John says, thinking about the bran and walnut muffin someone had served him at his favorite coffee shop this morning, in place of the donut that he’d asked for.

Later, as he’s climbing into bed he thinks about the other thing he’s noticed in the last few days: Derek. Derek has been– weird. More weird. Getting weirder by the second. Practically regressing, actually. He’s sullen and uncommunicative. He snapped at John this afternoon, when he’d asked for an update on the Magnolia case, and he barely spoke at all in the briefing, beyond what he actually had to. And the _look_ he sent Jack when Stiles arrived to take him out for lunch the day before. Well.   
  
John has a hunch. 

Quite a big hunch, actually. 

He’s just not quite sure what to do about it.

He likes Jack is the thing, he wasn’t lying about that. But Derek. Well. Derek’s special. Derek’s the sorta guy he’d like to see Stiles settle down with, eventually. 

He drums his fingers across his chest and stares at the ceiling. He won’t interfere. It’s Stiles’ life. He has to be the one to live it.  
  
That’s all there is to it.  
  
That bran muffin though, he thinks, rolling on to his side and adjusting his pillow. Ugh. Goddammit Stiles.

-

“Gonna see Jack today?” he asks Stiles next morning, over breakfast.   
  
“Naw,” Stiles stretches as he yawns. “You freaked him out the other day when you interrupted us on the couch. He wants to cool things off a bit. Thinks it’s too awkward to date his new boss's son.”  
  
“Aww. I can speak to him if you want? Put him at ease?”  
  
Stiles shrugs. “It’s ok. It wasn’t like it was going anywhere. Not really.” He spoons yogurt over his granola and then takes a big bite. 

“What about Derek?” John suggests hopefully.  
  
“What about him?” Stiles says, through a mouthful of half-chewed granola.

“It’s his day off today. Maybe you could hang out with him.”

“Uhhh. I don’t know, dad. Things are kinda awkward there. Besides, I don’t wanna get my heart stomped all over again.” He makes a face. “I might just drive out to the preserve and hike the long trail. It’s a good day for it.”  
  
“Fair enough, sounds like a plan.”   
  
Scraping the last of the yogurty granola out of his bowl and taking a final mouthful, Stiles says, “I’m gonna take a shower. You’ll probably be gone by the time I get out, so–.” He pushes up from his chair and gets to his feet.  
  
“Right, have a good day, son.”  
  
“You too, Pa.” Stiles plants a kiss on the top of his head as he walks by.

Thing is, Stiles has always been good at avoiding problems and waiting for them to go away. John on the other hand, likes to take a problem, carefully examine it for weaknesses, and smash right through it with the nearest heavy object. Which is why, once he hears the shower turn on upstairs, he sneaks out the back lets all the air out of the jeeps tires. Then he hides Stiles’ spare tire, pump and jack in the trunk of his own squad car. Then he drives to work in said squad car, whistling brightly to himself.

-

“Dad,” Stiles snarls down the phone about an hour later. “What the hell happened to my car?”  
  
“I don’t know, son?” John says blandly, as he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his morning coffee. “What happened? You didn’t get to go to the preserve?”  
  
“You know damn well, what happened. The tires are flat and all my stuff is–”  
  
“Oh my god! Flat? Jesus. Did you drive over a porcupine? Or do you think it’s vandals?”  
  
“Vandals,” Stiles says grimly. “Ancient, wrinkled vandals. Where is my jack?”  
  
“I thought you guys weren’t seeing each other anymore.”  
  
“My jack. The jack for the car. Where is my wrench? The garage has been cleaned out. There’s no–” Stiles huffs out an angry sigh. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you better bring my stuff back right–”

John covers his phone’s speaker, to muffle his own voice. “You’re breaking up, son!” he says. “Look. I’ll call Derek, tell him to come round and lend a–”  
  
“Nooooo!” Stiles calls. “Do not–”  
  
John ends the call with a flourish. “Jordan,” he calls, “Did someone bring cookies in? I thought I saw cookies earlier.”  
  
“Yeah, Janice. After talking to Stiles she found this low sugar recipe. They’re heart healthy. Made with quinoa and mashed banana. Not bad–”  
  
“Ugh,” John scowls. “Fine. Give me a minute. I’ve gotta make a quick call.” As he brings up Derek’s number he doesn’t feel even a tiny bit of guilt.  
  
-

Later that evening, when his shift is finished, eyes heavy with tiredness, John drives home blearily. The double shift had been hell, and he’d had to survive it on a tofu burger, a garden salad, and Janice’s goddamn quinoa cookies. Inside the hallway he kicks his shoes off, and opens the door to the living room to find– Derek’s bare ass. Right there. On the new leather couch. It’s attached, unsurprisingly, to Derek, who is blinking up at John in horrified surprise, from his position atop Stiles. Stiles. Who is, by the looks of things, mostly naked, also.  
  
For one long moment the three of them stare at each other. No one moves.  
  
“Uhhh,” Derek says guiltily, reaching blindly for a throw pillow, like he can cover up the evidence somehow.

John slaps a hand across his eyes and groans. Without another word he stomps into the kitchen.  
  
“It’s your own fault!” Stiles calls after him. “I told you not to call him!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, if you leave comments or kudos, then I am eternally grateful to you! Also you can find me on [tumblr!](http://yodas-yo-yo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Edited to add: In the comments someone asked what went down between Stiles and Derek off screen. This was my reply:
> 
> Oh, I think we can imagine what happened between Derek and Stiles :-D
> 
> Stiles: *angry at his dad, and mortified that Derek is here*
> 
> Derek: *Full of gruff concern, but determined to help, despite the fact that he is /painfully/ jealous about Stiles and Jack*
> 
> Cue lots of sniping and snarking. Derek being all 'well maybe your /boyfriend/ could come over. And Stiles getting mad.
> 
> It all ends when Derek blurts out his own feelings at the top of his voice mid argument and Stiles staggers back, all "Wait, you like me????"
> 
> That leads to mutual handjobs in the Stilinski's garage.
> 
> Which naturally leads to a blow job in the shower when they try and clean up.
> 
> In fact, by the time John finds them that evening, they've already christened basically every room in the house, confessed their undying love and decided on the name of the puppy they're gonna adopt when Stiles finally graduates.
> 
> Derek thinks it's mere happenstance that John discovers them on the (new, leather) couch, and he's beating himself up for being so distracted that he didn't hear his BOSS coming. Stiles, well, he knows what he's doing. This and the cauliflower lentil curry he's gonna make tomorrow, should teach his dad a valuable lesson about messing with the best xD


End file.
